It's time for the showdown at the Hellmouth Corral. Our spunky crew has jumped out of the mini van and into the frying pan. There's danger, intrigue, melodrama and over acting galore ahead, and a dragon who's ready for his close up. Title: And A Blonde Shall Lead Them Author: kindred Disclaimer: The characters from BtVS and AtS are the property of Joss Whedon. Rating: PG-13 Summary: A mysterious entity shakes things up at Wolfram and Hart, fashionable anarchy ensues. Oh, and don't judge a hero by her choice in footwear. 30. With Harmony in the lead, the girls walked swiftly through a maze of derelict parade floats. Feminine intuition and a waft of Aramis among the ruins propelled Harmony toward an inevitable showdown with her soon to be former paramour. Droning, masculine voices were detected as the girls approached the spray of light from an open doorway. Inside the empty, cavernous room Marcus Hamilton stood chatting with the Archduke Sebassis and Cyvus Vail. Beside them stood a towering, curvaceous black machine. It's sleek metal surface appeared to absorb the light instead of reflect it. There was a single molded seat and control panel located under a rudely suggestive, arching protrusion. "What is that thing?" Buffy asked, her face frozen in a scowl. From her experience, hellmouth openings usually went the more traditional, chant heavy route: the desecrated circle, blood sacrifice, betrayal of the lamb, tears of the corrupted virgin, that sort of angle. This was something new. This was a machine or perhaps even a vehicle. Forward, reverse, neutral, hellmouth? Buffy hadn't anticipated a machine. They could be in trouble. "It looks like a..." Fred turned beet red and tried her best not to gape at the thing. "Gi-normous vibrator...cool!" Harmony stared in rapt fascination. Her guy certainly knew how to capture her attention. "Ew." Dawn wrinkled her nose. Marcus Hamilton greeted them with a calm and welcoming smile. "Harmony, lovely as ever to see you and you've brought some friends: the curious Miss Burkle and the courteous Miss Summers. Oh, and someone new." Hamilton tilted his head to get a better view of Dawn. Having this imposing man stare directly at her caused Dawn's throat to tighten. The odd expression on the two demon's faces wasn't very comforting either. She wondered if she should say anything. "She's with us." Buffy's abrupt tone rippled through Dawn and gave her confidence. It took a few moments before Harmony finally forced her eyes away from the mesmerizing machine and back to her double-crossing, pheromone bomb of a boyfriend. "I've figured out your evil plans, Marcus," she asserted, "and you won't succeed." "I won't?" Hamilton offered the girls a tight smile. "Nope. I've totally worked hard to establish an equilibrium within the demon community in L.A. and you don't get to ruin it." "An equilibrium you say? Really?" "Yep. Just ask the Archduke and Cyvus Vail." Hamilton turned his head toward his companions. "So you're siding with Harmony, gentlemen?" "Absolutely not." The Archduke tipped his head back in condescension. Apparently he hadn't heeded Harmony's advice regarding the nostril hair. "What?" Although anticipated, the rejection still stung. Harmony had thought she'd made real progress with Sebassis. "She's an amusing wench, but her business acumen is suspect." Cyvus Vail added his phlegmatic two cents. "But my flow chart. You both raved about my flow chart!" "Your presentation was lavish and colorful, but your ideas lack focus," Sebassis spoke plainly. "Frankly, I found them trivial and amateurish and not worthy of my consideration." This withering opinion of Harmony was as sharp as a punch to her gut. "We had, like, a bunch of meetings," Harmony's tone wavered. "You paid attention to everything I said." "I never said you weren't a gracious host." The turtle eyed Archduke removed a small vial of alfalfa snuff from his belt and stuffed a portion of its contents up his left nostril. "Only with trivial and amateurish ideas!" Harmony flexed her face into a disgruntled knot. She'd worked long hours to accommodate Sebassis' every conceivable whim and coax him and his horny hierarchy into the modern age. And to think she was tutoring him on the finer points of her Think Pink system of demonic management. Cyvus Vail took the opportunity to interrupt. "You are a delicious specimen, and your wardrobe never fails to..." He dragged his dry tongue across discolored teeth while his hungry gaze raked over Harmony's shining stiletto boots and tightly secured trench coat. "Entertain. I'd like to offer you the position of third concubine." "What? Third? WHAT?" Harmony fumed at the indignation of being offered third place in anything. She didn't exactly know what a concubine was but by the way Vail was wiggling his eyebrows at her, she figured it probably involved laughing at his moldy jokes and calling him Big Daddy. "EW! You're like seven hundred years old. And ew!" "I can assure you that, outward appearances notwithstanding, I'm an athletic lover," Cyvus Vail made a hissing sound with his lips. "Guh--" Harmony sputtered, her upper lip recoiling in abject horror. "Oh please," Buffy interrupted, coming to Harmony's aid. "You're a bunch of needy twerps meeting in an abandoned warehouse, polishing a penis substitute and bigging each other up with homoerotic megalomania." "Like we've never seen that before!" Dawn snorted and rolled her eyes. "Because we have." "Yeah!" Fred felt compelled to agree--sister solidarity and all that--but this situation was new to her. For the Sunnydale sisters it was all too familiar: a troika with testosterone issues, too much time on their hands and delusions of godhood. When were the bad guys going to get their act together? "Really boys," Buffy agreed, "that's kinda played out as far as scenarios go." "Yeah! What she said!" Harmony rallied enough to toss in her own angry volley, even though the treacherous barb of betrayal stung sharply. * Outside, the situation wasn't improving. Hand to hand combat became more difficult with the addition of a dragon overhead. On its first pass, the dragon swooped low to the ground. Massive, leathery wings churned the air into a dusty cyclone, coughing up all manner of debris into the air. Andrew swung his sword left and right in single-minded concentration on the opponent in front of him and not the leathery monster above. Indiscriminate in its destruction, the dragon lunged for the first moving target it spied. Luckily for Andrew, the dragon snagged an anonymous foot soldier in cumbersome, oversized robes instead of the wiry auteur. Unfortunately, a gnarled knuckle clipped Andrew and sent him flying toward the van and unconsciousness. "The forces of evil really aren't the most fashion forward of zealots, are they?" Lorne shook his head with a pitying sigh while staring at the squalling creature in the dragon's clutches. He took a moment to reflect on his fine choice of lightweight battle garb, a paprika, pin stripe suit with an aubergine cravat that afforded ease of movement and, if required, escape. Lorne picked up a discarded wooden club at his feet and moved further into the carnage. "This Cro-Magnon stuff is fabulous!" Lorne called out to Wesley as the hefty cudgel connected with target after target. "I can definitely see the appeal. What a workout!" Wesley sidled up to him while engaging two armed opponents in a gritty sword battle. "Duck!" he grunted. Lorne hit the ground just as Wesley executed a tight pivot. He swung his weapon in a sweeping circle and cleanly decapitated both opponents. He then offered Lorne a hand up. "Ew," Lorne wasn't exactly cut out for the abattoir. It was a temperament thing he'd reconciled long ago in Pylea. "Don't take that the wrong way, Wesley. Totally on board with the apocalypse theme but, you know, ew." Gunn and Angel soon ran over to join them. The parking lot, now littered with the bodies of unsuccessful minions, was silent save for the sounds of Spike battling a tall, scaly demon some distance away. "Spike, are you in need of assistance?" Wesley inquired. "Don't think so," Spike replied while striking a glancing blow to the demon's rough surface. "Bit of a thick skinned lad here." That was an understatement. Street fighting moves had proved useless against the behemoth and only frustrated Spike further. For once he was glad to have a weapon. Spike launched each blow with every ounce of strength he possessed but had failed to elicit even so much as minor annoyance from the beast. "Come on, big fella, they're playing our song." "Hurry up, Spike." Angel made no attempt to contain his impatience. "Kill it already!" "Yes, Angel. Thanks ever so for your permission," Spike spat out the words. "Never would have thought of that on my own." The creature swung a wide swipe of its fist at Spike and knocked him to the pavement. "OW!" Spike howled and sprang back to his feet, bringing a hand to his face. "Buggerin' quills?" A number of painful quills stuck out of his temple. That stung almost as much as the fact that he had a critical audience and wasn't making much progress in the kill-it-and-move-along theme of the moment. "What is taking so damn long?" Angel shouted his frustration. "Won't be a minute," Spike avoided another prickly fist and countered with a jab to the creature's belly. It had no effect. "We don't have time for this," Gunn yelled and launched his battle-axe at the demon. It whizzed through the air and lodged squarely in the bulky demon's skull. Quills were no match for a battle-axe to the cranium and the demon fell to the ground with a resounding thud. "Jolly good aim there, Charles," Wesley praised Gunn's splendid hand-eye coordination. "Thanks," Gunn beamed with satisfaction. "Charlie!" Spike protested. "I had him on the ropes. I was going for the noggin next." "You're gratitude hits me right here," Gunn smiled and punched his sternum softly. At that moment the dragon landed between Spike and the others. It let out a foul spray of putrid flame. "Oh bollocks," Spike swallowed and stared up at the muscled barrier before him. The creature snorted a puff of smoke out of its nostrils and then let loose another showy stream of fire. Spike scrambled as fast as he could, taking a running dive out of the path of the fiery breath. The trail of flames scorched him slightly but his leather covering prevented total immolation. "Damn!" Wesley hissed. "Let's sort this, now." Wesley, Angel, Lorne and Gunn grabbed every available weapon from the fallen and attacked the dragon. The skirmish was short lived. It is a well known fact that dragons are notoriously difficult to kill. They have fire spewing abilities, hideously sharp talons on all four feet, tail spikes and a virtually impenetrable epidermal surface. Add to those attributes a general belligerent nature and love for chaotic plunder and the scales of battle tip reliably in the dragon's favor. Wesley vaguely recalled something about slaying a dragon by piercing its vulnerable heart with the head of a single, swift arrow. Perhaps that was a solution found only in fairy tales. The creature before them was only too real; a leviathan of stunning agility that was looking for snacks. After a brief and laughably ineffective assault, the dragon considered the flavorful choices offered. Spike staggered to his feet and ran toward his companions only to see Angel shove Wesley and Gunn out of the way of the dragon's drooling mouth. There was an odd, crumpled yelp and then the dragon leapt into the sky once more. Battered and shaken, Wesley, Gunn and Lorne scrambled together. All eyes looked skyward. "Where did it go? I can't see a thing!" Spike shouted. "Is anyone injured?" Wesley called out. Gunn and Lorne shook their heads. "Good. Let's continue." Before he could take the first step, Wesley found himself caught in Spike's unyielding grip. "Maybe you didn't notice, Professor, but that thing took Angel." "I know, Spike. I saw." Weary resignation bled into Wesley's voice. "Let's hope we'll have enough time to do what needs doing before it comes back." This response was more like the Wesley Spike recognized, the one with grit and steely determination and no patience for unicorns. This was not a time to falter. The stakes were too high to quibble. For the brave, there was only one response possible. Forward. They were going forward. No matter what the cost. Spike loosened his grip and looked once more into the vacant night. Dragon or no dragon, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. The battle hadn't even rightly started and Angel was gone. "Let's go." Gunn took a deep breath to steady himself. Lorne nodded his assent. Wesley focused on the unknown threat ahead. Whatever it was, the women were most likely facing it at that very moment. Spike stood shoulder to shoulder with these found friends, like gunslingers of old, with one certainty ringing in his head. Angel wouldn't pause. Not for a minute. Not for a second. Not for anything. Angel was a bugger that way. With renewed conviction and urgency, the men walked silently through the open warehouse door. tbc...